O. ART.  Lusam, thou seek’st to rob me of my son,
My only son.

O. LUS.  He robb’d me of my daughter, my only daughter.

JUS.  And robbers are flat felons by the law.

O. ART.  Lusam, I say thou art a blood-sucker,
A tyrant, a remorseless cannibal: 
Old as I am, I’ll prove it on thy bones.

O. LUS.  Am I a blood-sucker or cannibal? 
Am I a tyrant that do thirst for blood?

O. ART.  Ay, if thou seek’st the ruin of my son,
Thou art a tyrant and a blood-sucker.

O. LUS.  Ay, if I seek the ruin of thy son,
I am indeed.

O. ART.  Nay, more, thou art a dotard;
And, in the right of my accused son,
I challenge thee the field.  Meet me, I say,
To-morrow morning beside Islington,
And bring thy sword and buckler, if thou dar’st.

O. LUS.  Meet thee with my sword and buckler? 
There’s my glove. 
I’ll meet thee, to revenge my daughter’s death. 
Call’st thou me dotard?  Though these threescore years
I never handled weapon but a knife,
To cut my meat, yet will I meet thee there. 
God’s precious! call me dotard?

O. ART.  I have cause,
Just cause, to call thee dotard, have I not?

O. LUS.  Nay, that’s another matter; have you cause? 
Then God forbid that I should take exceptions
To be call’d dotard of one that hath cause.

JUS.  My masters, you must leave this quarrelling, for quarrellers are never at peace; and men of peace, while they are at quiet, are never quarrelling:  so you, whilst you fall into brawls, you cannot choose but jar.  Here comes your son accused, and his wife the accuser; stand forth both.  Hugh, be ready with your pen and ink to take their examinations and confessions.

    Enter MISTRESS MARY, BRABO, YOUNG MASTER
    ARTHUR, MISTRESS SPLAY, HUGH, and OFFICERS.

Y. ART.  It shall not need; I do confess the deed,
Of which this woman here accuseth me;
I poison’d my first wife, and for that deed
I yield me to the mercy of the law.

O. LUS.  Villain! thou mean’st my only daughter,
And in her death depriv’dst me of all joys.

Y. ART.  I mean her.  I do confess the deed;
And though my body taste the force of law,
Like an offender, on my knee I beg
Your angry soul will pardon me her death.

O. LUS.  Nay, if he kneeling do confess the deed,
No reason but I should forgive her death.

JUS.  But so the law must not be satisfied;
Blood must have blood, and men must have death;
I think that cannot be dispens’d withal.

MRS MA.  If all the world else would forgive the deed,
Yet would I earnestly pursue the law.

Y. ART.  I had a wife would not have us’d me so;
The wealth of Europe could not hire her tongue
To be offensive to my patient ears;
But, in exchanging her, I did prefer
A devil before a saint, night before day,
Hell before heaven, and dross before tried gold;
Never was bargain with such damage sold.